Gravity
by dakota423
Summary: This was his future, right there in front of him, and it was still so far away... An account of Jim's time at the Interstellar Academy. Jim/OC, please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: So… this is almost a commission piece. My friend did say she would five me five bucks… but that's not why I'm writing it. No, I'm writing it because the concept has been in my head ever since I first saw the movie _Treasure Planet_, and its about time I put some pen to paper… or in this case, fingers to keyboard.

This fic takes place during Jim Hawkins' time at the InterStellar Academy. It will be primarily a romance fic, because that's what was commissioned (sort of), but I like to throw in some less-sappy plot on the side, because Jim doesn't strike me as the kind of guy to be in touch with his feelings the minute they rear their ugly head.

Please enjoy.

* * *

_James Hawkins was the kind of guy who hated to lose._

_Take racing, for example. If he didn't beat you around the course with at least twenty seconds between times, he would storm off in a huff and not simmer down until the next day. He was proud and defiant, and everyone knew it. He was also trouble, or at least he was before he found the map._

_While the story Treasure Planet had been kept a strict secret, word of a mutiny on a Galactic ship had spread far. The money that the Hawkins family had suddenly come into was attributed to a dead uncle, and no one asked of it afterward. What the people of the village did wonder about, however, was the changed nature of the boy. The James Hawkins that stepped off the RLS Legacy was an entirely different person than the one that left months before. Gone was the brooding boy; suddenly, by the graces of the gods, here was a man with a future._

_It was with this future in mind that Jim set off for the Interstellar Academy. Fresh for his voyage to the outer reaches of the galaxy, and sporting a new self-confidence, he left his mother with the funds to rebuild her precious Benbow Inn and set out for the capitol of Montressor, Carviene._

_But having a future didn't change who he was. He still hated to lose, which brings us to the start of our story. _

* * *

Jim glared at the man sitting across from him. He knew there weren't that many humans around the closer he got to Carviene, and that he should welcome the contact with his own species so far from home, but…

But sometimes he honestly forgot what scum the human race was.

"I said give me my money, punk!"

Jim shook his head, more in aggravation more than refusal.

"Look, I'm in kind of a hurry, so if you could just let me go, that would be great, thanks…"

One of the man's lackeys, a Calderian with a bad tentacle job, stepped forward to block his escape. The man's hand went to the opening of his jacket and Jim followed it. If this guy was armed, he was in deeper shit than he thought…

"All right,' he said, holding up his hands. "Take it easy, I'll give it to you." He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out five drabloons and slid them across the table. The man didn't hesitate to snatch the coins up and tuck them away.

"Pleasure doin business with ya," he said with a grin before walking away. Jim glared holes into his back until he disappeared from sight. That was the last time he put money on anything. He'd barely been traveling fro two days and he'd already been scammed.

"You think I'd know better," he muttered to himself. He ran a hand back through his dark brown hair to get it out of his eyes and reshouldered his pack, turning towards the door. He'd make a note to stay out of Port taverns in the future.

"All boarding for shuttle to Carviene!"

Jim glanced at the clock on the wall and cursed. Slapping another drabloon down on the table for his bill, he bolted for the door and headed to the shuttle. The conductor eyed him warily as he jumped into the cabin, but took his ticket without a word and moved on. Jim breathed a sigh of relief and sat down, away from the other passengers.

He was rather hacked off at himself for losing money over such a stupid thing. Betting on a race, what was he thinking? He shook his head. Better get over it now; he had bigger things to worry about where he was going.

Jim reached into his pack and pulled out the folded piece of paper that was carefully nestled between his clothes. He unfolded it with the utmost care and began to read it, though he'd already done so numerous times before and was pretty sure he had it memorized. The handwriting was small and neat, and he read the words slowly.

"_To his Lordship  
The Admiral Roark  
The Interstellar Academy  
Carviene, Montressor_

_My Lord,_

_It is with great honor that I present to you this letter of recommendation for a man whom I believe to be the most gifted and able-bodied spacer available to you._

_You are undoubtably aware of the recent expedition led by myself to the Outer Edges and of the events that befell upon my ship. It was on this expedition that I met young Mr. James Hawkins. He was hired onto my ship as Cabin Boy; however he earned his stardust in the duration of the voyage. He is an intelligent young man and is eager to learn._

_I would also like to point out that he saved the crew's life on more than one occasion and demonstrated a type of valor I believe to be uncommon in the students that pass through your halls. _

_My Lord, it is my hope that you will accept Mr. Hawkins into the Academy. I can assure you that it will be worth your while._

_Sincerely,_

_Capt. Amelia  
RLS Legacy_

Jim's gaze lingered on the signature long after he was done reading it. He owed the Captain so much for this chance, and he had no idea how to thank her. She was providing him with that one thing he wanted above all else: a future. That letter was his future.

Every so gently he folded the letter back up and slipped it into his pocket. The Montressor countryside was the last thing he saw before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, the first chapter: really short, but it sets it up. I'll be back with the next chapter soon! Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: oh my gosh, thanks to those that reviewed! I didn't think I'd get any so soon. Well here I am with the second chapter, which will be much longer than the first one, let me tell you. Please enjoy!

* * *

Chapter two:

"Approaching city of Carviene! First stop: Carve Port!"

Jim jumped up, shaking the sleep from his head and looking out the window. Outside the fields were giving way to small houses and then larger building, then buildings to skyscrapers. His mouth fell open.

"Whoa."

The city itself was similar to Montressor Space Port, but on a much more massive scale. Buildings reached to the sky, white and gleaming in the sunlight. Docks were crowded with merchant and navy ships, their hulls packed with goods and spoils. The streets were full of people bustling along. Jim pressed his face to the glass, too excited to realize he looked like the small-town boy he was.

The shuttle pulled into the station with a low hiss and settled with a thud. Jim picked up his sack and stood, again checking his pocket for the letter. Finding that it was still folded up there, he nodded to himself and moved out of his seat. _This is it_, he thought. He followed the other passengers off of the shuttle, stepping out into the crowded station.

People shoved past him, pushing him out of the way to get to where they were going, but Jim barely noticed. He was too busy gawking at the scene stretched out before him.

Built on a hill, the city was laid out like a series of circles, each one outside the other. Back ways and alleys intersected the rings, cutting them into little slices. The outskirts of the city consisted mainly of docks and ports and taverns for spacers on liberty. Further in were more buildings: businesses, homes, schools. On top of the hill, at the very center of the city, was a large clock tower, its marble sides shining merrily.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

He turned to the speaker: a girl about his age, with dark auburn hair and violet eyes. She was smiling at him, and Jim managed a smirk back.

"Yeah, it is," he said. "What's it for?"

"They built it to commemorate the city's tercentennial." She put her hands behind her back like a child reciting lines. "The Caravive Tower is our best landmark." She cocked her head at him. "You're not from around here, are you?"

He just shook his head warily.

She nodded, not put off by his silence. "I thought so," she said, smoothing out the skirt of her dress and then grinning at him again. "Where are you going?"

"Uh, nowhere---"

"Then why don't I show you around?" She moved closer to him, and he backed away. She didn't look like much, but then again, neither did most dangerous things, and he was beginning to trust his gut on matters like this.

"No thanks, I really need to go."

Her face fell, and Jim almost felt bad for her. Almost.

"Oh, okay." She smiled again suddenly. "Welcome to Carviene!" she said, and then she ran off, disappearing into the crowd effortlessly. Jim watched her go with a mix of relief and disappointment. He was going to need somebody to show him to the Academy, and that had been his chance. With a sigh he looked back at the clock tower. It was just past four o'clock. If he wanted to get there before nightfall he had to hurry. Shouldering his pack, he set off down the street.

The first thing he did was stop and ask for directions in a small shop just outside the station. The owner pointed him in the right direction, and he thanked him and headed out. He got turned around though (something he decided was way too easy in this kind of city) and ended up in the center of Carviene, staring up at the clock tower.

"Great," he muttered, "just great." He threw his pack down and collapsed onto a bench. Running a hand back through his hair, he analyzed his situation.

A) He was lost.

B) It was getting dark.

C) He was low on money.

D) He had to get the letter to the Admiral before he left on Tour.

E) He was screwed.

"I am so dead."

He looked up at the people around him. They were dressed a lot sharper than the people further down the hill, and Jim guessed he was in the richer part of the city. They were the respectable type, with powdered wigs and brocaded jackets and shiny buckles, and he decided to take a chance with them. He went up to the person closest to him, a woman in a royal blue dress.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said as he went up to her. "Can you tell me how to---"

"No begging!" she snapped and rushed past him. Jim stared after her, frowning.

"What?" He shook his head and turned to the next passerby: a bearded Calypsian. "I was wondering if you could---"

"Outta the way!" And he shoved past too. It was the same with every other person he approached. No one would talk to him. As he stood in the midst of the crowd, he realized what the problem was.

They thought he was dock-trash.

Frustration made him clench his jaw and glare at the people that passed. His clothes weren't that bad, just some pants and a sailing shirt and his black jacket. He looked nothing like trash. He nearly grabbed one of the men going by to make him talk. Someone ran into him, though, and before he could catch his balance he hit the ground. Something landed on top of him, and he realized that it was a person because it began flailing around. Jim shoved them away and rolled over to get to his feet. There was a loud whistle and a few offended shouts, and the figure next to him jumped up and ran off. It was then that, through the legs of the crowd, Jim saw his pack in the hands of the kid that had pushed him.

"Hey!" He scrambled to his feet and took off after the scoundrel. The boy saw him and turned into an alley.

"Come back here!"

He turned into the alley and saw a group of kids bolting away, one of them holding his bag. He cursed and picked up the pace. The boy with his pack was in the back of the gang and if he went just a little faster he could catch up…

"Hey!"

The boy looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide, and then shouted something to his friends. They scattered. But by this time Jim has caught up, and before the boy could disappear into another alley, he tripped over a trash can that sent him flying. Jim gained on him and easily pinned him down. The boy struggled and kicked and cursed but he held him, and as Jim tried to keep him down, his cap fell from his head and auburn curls spilled out. Blue eyes met violet ones.

"You!"

The girl from the station glared up at him. "Get off me!" she shouted, wriggling in his grasp. But Jim was still staring in disbelief. He was practically on top of her, and the instant he realized it he leapt off and let her up. She was on her feet in a second and glaring down at him. She spat something out at him in another language, something harsh and bitter and full of malice, and then she took off after her friends, leaving Jim laying there in shock. When he recovered his brain he grabbed his pack and searched through it, checking to see if everything was there. It was, and he moved to his own pockets.

"Shit!"

His money was gone, and the letter…?

"SHIT!"

He spun around, searching the street for any sight of the girl. But she was gone.

Jim let out a scream of frustration and kicked his pack across the alley, thinking about what he was going to tell the Admiral.

_Oh, I'm sorry to bother you, Sir, but I'm here because Captain Amelia of the Legacy sent me… Proof? I did, Sir, but it was stolen…_

He pushed his hair back, sighing heavily. He was never going to get into the Academy without that letter. Hell, he wouldn't even make it to the front door. His only option now was to do home. He leaned against the wall of a building and slid to the ground. Go home? With what money? It was a three-day trip to the Benbow by shuttle, and shuttles cost money. His head fell back and he closed his eyes.

That was when he felt the rain drop.

Jim groaned and stood up, grabbing his bad and shouldering it as the rain picked up. He hadn't even noticed the clouds roll in, but that was Montressor weather for you. Now he just had to find someplace to get out of it.

Jim headed down the street, away from the center of the city. He went the same way he'd seen the girl run, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he'd find her and get his letter back. He had no doubt that she took it, though why was beyond him. He turned the corner just as a crack of thunder exploded overhead. He naturally looked up, half-expecting to see a solo-skiff falling from the sky like one had only months before. But there wasn't a skiff, only rain and clouds and the tops of buildings. He closed his eyes again and stood there, liking the feel of the rain on his face. It made him feel like less of a screw up.

"Oi, lad, I don't think you're s'posed to be standin in it."

His eyes snapped open and he looked around. A few feet away was a young boy who was standing in a doorway. His bright orange hair seemed to give off a light of its own, like his smile, and then Jim knew that he wasn't talking to a boy at all.

"Can you tell me how to get to the Interstellar Academy?" he asked, not moving. He knew how shady an Elysian could be, but he needed the help. The little man at the door cocked his head, smiling like he knew something Jim didn't.

"Gonna be a spacer, are ya, lad?"

Jim just nodded.

"Aye." The Elysian pointed down the road. "Keep goin that way. It'll be just 'round the bend. Ya can't miss it."

Jim nodded again and started walking, then stopped and turned. "Hey, you didn't see a girl---?"

But the man was gone.

Jim stared at the doorway, wondering whether or not the man had really been there. Another clap of thunder shook him out of it, and he frowned and started down the road again. Sure enough, it only took him a few minutes to round the corner and come face to face with a massive gate. On it was a plaque inscribed with the words:

INTERSTELLAR ACADEMY

_Ut Astrum, Umquam Fidelis

* * *

_

Author's Note: Yeah, I know, cutting it short. But this was getting rather long and I'm not exactly done with the rest of it so this was the only logical spot to stop it. Sorry for any inconvience but I'll have more up soon, I promise! Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Yay, back with the third chapter! Here to relieve you all of the cliffhanger I left you with. Oh by the way, the motto of the Academy is Latin for "To the Stars, Ever Faithful." Not like they actually speak Latin in that particular universe, but hey, still sounds good. Anyhow, please enjoy this chapter of Gravity!

_march 6, 08: _okay, the end of this chapter has been edited for those who've already read this one. enjoy the add-on!

Chapter three:

INTERSTELLAR ACADEMY

_Ut Astrum, Umquam Fidelis_

Jim stared up at the words, suddenly feeling very small. This was his future, right there in front of him, and it was still so far away. The rain beat down on his shoulders, and he squinted as he gripped the bars of the gates to see what lay inside. The blurred outline of a large grey building was all that was visible. Amorphous squares of yellow light shone as windows in the grey mass. He knew he must look like a little kid standing there in the rain with his face pressed between the bars, but at that moment he didn't care. He was _that close…_

A rectangle of light appeared on the building, and the silhouette of a person was inside of it. Jim straightened, watching the figure run towards the gate with an umbrella over their head and a lantern swinging at their side. When they reached the gate, Jim recognized the man as a Bastian, the same race of feline people that the Captain belonged to. He had large green eyes and jet black hair and the same cat-like features, so much that they could've been related.

"Can I help you?" the Bastian said, raising the lantern. His voice was rich and deep.

"Uh---"

"Out with it, boy. Or haven't you noticed its raining?"

Jim bit back a sarcastic remark and said, "Captain Amelia sent me, from the _Legacy_---"

His eyes widened in interest. "Amelia? Really?" The Bastian shifted his umbrella to the hand holding the lantern and pulled out a key, with which he unlocked the gate and pulled it open just enough to let Jim in. Then he shut and locked it again.

"After hours, you know," he said in response to Jim's raised eyebrow. "Can't just let anyone in."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Jim as he followed the Bastian up the wide cobblestone walkway. When they got closer to the Academy he saw that it was built like a palace: a large columned entryway framed by angels, and two long wings that stretched into the foggy distance. It looked to be at least three stories and the façade was made of the same white marble that seemed to be the bones of the city. The lawn was well maintained and benches were scattered here and there, and though no one was outside due to the rain, Jim imagined it was well trod when the sun was out. He could see inside the lit windows now, and it looked like the inside would be just as grand as the exterior. The Bastian took him to the pair of massive guilt slabs of wood that served as doors and opened one, letting a sliver of warm light fall on Jim. His eyes widened as he stepped inside.

The foyer was immense, with vaulted ceilings and two large fire places on the opposite walls. Chairs and sofas were spread around, as well as a few tables. Portraits hung on the walls of ships and famous captains. Everything was warm and inviting but at the same time so overwhelming that Jim thought he might fall over.

"This is our Common Room," said the Bastian, putting up the umbrella and lantern. He straightened out his blue jacket and held up his chin. "If you'll follow me please." He promptly turned on heel and walked toward a large staircase. Jim stared at the stairs, still taking everything in. The Bastian rolled his eyes and sighed.

"If you don't mind, you're dripping on the carpet."

Jim jumped and jogged to the stairs. The Bastian shook his head and continued up the steps, closely followed by a less-than-attentive boy. Jim was led up the stairs and into a small hall with a single door at the very end, which they stopped outside of. "Wait here," the Bastian said before knocking and then slipping inside.

Jim waited for the door to click shut before falling against the wall with a sigh of relief. Maybe he'd make it after all, he thought, brushing his sopping hair out of his eyes. Maybe---

"Boy?"

His eyes snapped open. The Bastian was back, holding the door open for him.

"The Admiral will see you now."

Jim straightened, his mouth agape. "What? The _Admiral_?"

The Bastian simply grinned, showing off some rather nasty canines, and showed Jim into the room. He stepped in, taking in the long windows and velvet draperies and emblazoned wallpaper before settling his gaze on the desk across the room.

"Come in, boy," said the figure behind the desk. Jim immediately obeyed.

The Admiral was a large man well into his forties, but strongly built and in his prime from the look of him. A hero of the Battle of Procyon, he was a prime example of the excellence that the navy produced. He had salt-and-pepper hair and clear blue eyes and a square jaw, and his expression was set and stern. Jim felt himself draw his shoulders back without thinking. This guy wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Sit down, boy," Admiral Roark said without looking up, pointing towards a chair with his pen. Jim did as he was told, not saying anything. He just watched the Admiral finish writing. When he set his pen down, he fixed an iron gaze on the boy in front of him, looking his face over, it seemed, for any cracks. But Jim didn't shrink back; he just kept his eyes locked on the Admiral's until he cleared his throat and shuffled some papers.

"Lieutenant Andrews tells me that you've been sent from the _Legacy_." He folded his hands and fixed Jim with an intent gaze. "Is this true?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, Captain Amelia---"

"You're the boy who found the map?"

He gritted his teeth and nodded. When were they going to look and realize that we wasn't a boy anymore? He was seventeen for god's sake.

"Interesting." The Admiral was silent a moment, then said, "I assume she sent you to us with some kind of proof?"

Jim sighed. Here goes nothing…

"She did, but I lost it."

The Admiral raised an eyebrow. "Lost it?"

"Actually, it was stolen."

Both eyebrows went up. "Stolen? Not in Carviene."

He resisted the urge to scowl and say, _"Hate to break it to ya…"_ He settled for a nod and a "Yes, sir."

The Admiral cleared his throat again. "What's your name, boy?"

"Jim---James Hawkins."

He grabbed some papers and picked up his pen. "And you wish to attend this Academy, Mr. Hawkins?"

"Yeah, I do." The Admiral glanced at him, and he added grudgingly, "Yes sir."

"Well, Mr. Hawkins, do you have the funds to pay for this kind of education?" He smirked. "Or was your money stolen as well?"

_Why I oughta…_ "Yes sir, it was."

"That is a shame."

He was starting to like the Admiral less and less. Then again, he reminded him of a certain pirate that was his close friend and mentor, and that had to count for something. Maybe there was more to Admiral Roark than what Jim saw in front of him.

"I suppose I could call on Captain Amelia to speak for you in person," the Admiral continued, "but I'm afraid she's away on holiday---"

"She's in Arletham."

The Admiral raised his eyebrows. "The coast?"

Jim nodded, enjoying the one-up. "Staying with my mom." _And the Doc_, he added silently, but he thought best to leave that part out.

"I see." He looked at some more papers for a while, and then cleared his throat and folded his hands. "Well Mr. Hawkins, I cannot allow you to attend my Academy without the proper funds, that's just the way of things." He held up a hand to quiet Jim, who looked like he was about to spit fire. "However," he said, "Captain Amelia is a fine spacer and I take her judgment very seriously." The Admiral fixed Jim with a hard gaze. "If she believes that you of fine Navy tar, then I shall see to it that you are taught here." Again he held up a hand. "But---," Jim fell back into his seat with a scowl, "I will have to speak to her before I make my decision."

"Oh."

"Tomorrow I go on leave to the Space Port to meet with the House of Lords. I shall stop in Arletham on the way and speak to the Captain there." He leaned back in his chair. "In the meantime, I believe it would be best for you to remain here. We can't have you running around the city unsupervised."

Jim could have passed out from the amount of energy it took not to roll his eyes.

"Does that suit you, Mr. Hawkins?"

Jim nodded. "Yes sir," he said through a clenched jaw. The Admiral clasped his hands together.

"Well then, now that that's settled…" He pulled on a rope next to his desk and the door opened and the Bastian came in.

"Yes, sir?"

"Lieutenant Andrews, please escort Mr. Hawkins down to the servants quarters. He'll be earning his keep here till I return."

Jim shot up and sputtered out, "_What?!"_

"The first rule of discipline you must learn, Mr. Hawkins, is that life is not always easy. Lieutenant, if you please."

The Bastian --- Andrews --- stepped forward and waited for Jim to stand. But he was still staring incredulously at Admiral Roark. Why? Why did they _always_ insist on making him a slave?

"Mr. Hawkins?"

Jim rolled his eyes and stood, muttering "Yes sir," and walking around the chair.

"That'll do. And Mr. Hawkins?"

Jim sighed as quietly as possible and turned back to the Admiral.

"Know that sarcasm and disrespect are not values we take to kindly in this Academy. Do your best to remember that and you might just survive."

He hadn't looked up from his papers, but Jim knew he wasn't lying. He hated it, too.

"Yes, sir," he said, and he meant it.

"Good. Then we have an accord?"

Jim nodded.

"Excellent. Lieutenant?"

Andrews nodded and went to the door, obviously expecting Jim to follow. But he kept staring at the Admiral.

"Thanks," he said.

Admiral Roark paused and looked up, looking Jim over for the first time since he'd arrived. He didn't say anything, just sized him up, then nodded. Jim nodded back, then went to the door and followed the Lieutenant out.

* * *

"You'll sleep here," Andrews said, opening a door and showing him in. They were in the east wing of the Academy, where the servant's quarters were located, near the kitchens. On the way the way they had passed through the mess hall and then the more formal dining room, with its chandeliers and polished wood tables, and Jim has been both impressed and disgusted. It was his future he was staring at, but at the moment the opulence didn't suit him. They'd gone though a door that led off the dining room into a faintly-lit hall. "Servant's hall," the lieutenant had said cheerily, showing Jim along. "This one goes to the kitchens, that one to laundry. Runs like clockwork down here, Hawkins, it's really quite impressive." Jim had just nodded and followed the Bastian silently, brooding over his enslavement.

His room was small but well-furnished, with a good-sized bed and a chest of drawers in the corner. A wash bin stood off to the side, as well as a writing desk.

"You'll be woken tomorrow by the head cook, Mr. Smrott. He'll inform you of your duties then." Andrews was silent a moment, then asked quietly, "Did Amelia really send you?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

The Bastian smiled ruefully. "She's my cousin. I haven't seen her in a while and it's good to know that she's still about."

"She's in Arletham---"

"I heard, staying with you mother. I'll just have to drop her a line then, shall I? Would you mind if I had the address?"

Jim didn't mind and gave it to him, then thanked the lieutenant and said goodnight. The Bastian smirked and left, and Jim shut the door behind him and then turned back into his room.

He didn't want to think that it wouldn't be bad, because he knew better. Things could always get worse, and they usually did in his case. Sighing, he walked over to the bed, dropped his bag on the floor, and fell face first onto the bed. The mattress and blankets were soft, and Jim groaned. He'd wanted a blow to the face, not a soft landing. He rolled over and folded his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. A wave of exhaustion swept over him, and he felt his eyelids grow heavy. He barely managed to kick off his boots before he fell asleep.

That night he dreamt of violet eyes.

* * *

Author's Note: okay, i like that ending a lot better. i had that last little snippet written and it was going to be the beginning of the fourth chapter, but i decided I liked it better as the end of the third. please review and tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

(Author's Note: Koda here, back with the fourth chapter! Hurray! Again thanks for the reviews, I'm so glad you all like this story. I finally got the DVD version of this movie [yeah, I know, I'm still living in the dark ages or something and I watched --- ok, listened --- to the commentary and it totally changed my view on this story and its intended plot. Needless to say, the concept of this story has been revamped. I've decided to add some more to it subplot-wise and I've changed some character roles and then made the decision to include some characters I originally wasn't going to get involved… To put a long story short, my mind has been changed quite a bit. But don't let that discourage you! I'll still be writing and updating as usual. I just feel that now this story has some more substance to it with these changes. I hope, anyway.

This chapter is a little bit shorter, I think, but I hope you all like it. Enjoy!)

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Chapter four: 

"Wake up, boy. I'll have no slackers on my staff."

Jim groaned and buried his face further into the mattress, trying to go back to sleep. Fate, it seemed, deemed it otherwise.

"Get up, boy!"

Jim's mattress was suddenly upended, and Jim fell to the floor with a loud thud and a curse.

"Hey! What the f---?" He stopped when he saw the dark face staring down at him and stood. "Uh…"

"Jim Hawkins?" The man pursed his lips together and crossed his arms. "Did you enjoy a good night's sleep?"

Jim knew it was a rhetorical question, so he just fidgeted and crossed his arms over his bare chest. He wasn't particularly enjoying standing half-naked in front of some Corbae he didn't know.

The man --- who had oil-black skin and bright beady eyes and black hair that turned to feathers at the nape of his neck --- eyed Jim with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. He looked down his thin nose and said in a rasp of a voice, "My name is Mr. Smrott, I'm the head cook."

Jim met his eyes, a little unnerved by the bottomless pools of oil he was staring into, and nodded. The Corbae inclined his head and then looked down at the mattress on the floor.

"I apologize about that, but at the expense of reiterating myself, I do not tolerate slackers on my staff."

Jim bit back his comment.

"Now, Hawkins, you are to be up and in the kitchens by this time every morning. Seeing as this is your first day, I'll let it slide."

Jim gaped at the clock on the wall. "But it's four in the morning!"

"And we have many things to do before the students are up. Get dressed and come with me. You have a lot to learn, Hawkins."

He opened his mouth to say something about what _he_ needed to learn, butJim sighed instead and started looking around for the clothes that he'd taken off sometime in the night. He pulled them on grudgingly, hating that he had to be up this early. The _Legacy_ had been nothing like this. He couldn't wait to hear what Silver would say---

He stopped with his leg halfway through his pants. He wondered where the scalawag was now…

"Jim, if you'll move a bit faster we might get breakfast into you before you have to work."

Jim shook his head and pulled his pants on, tucking his shirt in hastily and then bending down to pull on his boots. There was no sense in doing anything to his hair --- it was a mess anyway and the only thing to do was run his hand back through it, making it messier. Mr. Smrott eyed this with a blank stare.

"Your hair will have to be cut," he said. Jim sputtered.

"What? No way!"

The Corbae shrugged. "If not now, then when you are a student. It's regulations." At the confused look on Jim's face, he added, "Lieutenant Andrews informed me of your situation. Now, if you please." He moved toward the door, and Jim followed slowly, running his hand over his face.

Smrott led him down the hall outside. The doors that had been closed the night before were now open and people were walking past them and going and leaving, chatting gaily. Jim could only give them all a half-hearted smile; he couldn't stand morning people, but he was too tired to care.

"This is the laundry." They stopped in front of the door the lieutenant had showed him last night. Steam poured out from the door and the figures of people could be seen within the billowing clouds. Smrott lead him in and smiled at a few of the ladies scrubbing linens in huge vats of hot soapy water, then stopped next to a large woman who was folding pillowcases. She was short and plump, with red cheeks and a bright smile.

"Mr. Smrott, pleasure seein' you this mornin'. What can I help you with?"

"Mrs. Langley, this is Jim Hawkins, the new boy. Jim, Mrs. Langley, our laundress."

Jim nodded at her and her round face burst into a smile.

"Pleasure, Jim." She turned around and grabbed some shirts and a few pairs of pants and turned back to them. She handed the pile to Jim. "You'll be needin' these. There's enough for a week. Wash is on Thursdays. Just put it all in a bag in here and they'll be cleaned."

Jim nodded again. "Thanks," he said, staring down at the stack of freshly pressed shirts in his hands. That all-too-familiar feeling of guilt started to creep up the back of his neck, and he quickly stamped it down. There was no need for guilt anymore.

Mrs. Langley smiled and looked back at the Corbae. "Where's he goin'? Kitchen?"

Jim looked up at Mr. Smrott, anxious to know. But the Corbae just shook his head. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Langley," he said, bowing slightly. "Come Jim, let's get some food into you." He turned to the door and Jim followed with a sigh.

The kitchen was buzzing with activity. At least half a dozen cooks were running around with pots and pans and silver platters full of food. The smells nearly knocked Jim over. Mr. Smrott walked over to a counter and easily tied on his apron, then messed around with a few pots before ladling out a bowl of porridge and handing it to Jim along with a spoon. Jim sat down and inhaled greedily before digging in. A glass of perp juice appeared as well, and he wiped his mouth across his sleeve and drank some down.

"You will be working with me down here," Smrott said while he ate. "As my personal assistant."

Jim wiped his mouth again, slowly this time, staring at the feathers on the back of the cook's neck. Smrott hadn't turned around when he spoke; he was making more porridge. Jim thought about it for a moment. Cabin boy again. Minus a ship, of course, but what was the difference?He mentally shrugged. The cook wasn't a bad guy. Jim liked him, even. At least if things got bad, there would be something bearable along side it.

"You were the cabin boy on the _Legacy_, were you not?"

Jim nodded absently, staring into his glass of perp juice. Now that he had food in his stomach he was starting to feel tired again, and he was having trouble comprehending what the head cook had said.

"Jim?"

He started and looked up. Mr. Smrott was staring down at him, a platter of food in his hands. He set the platter down on the table in front of Jim.

"I need you to take this up to the mess hall," he said. "Go change and then do this, will you?"

Jim nodded again, pulling a small smile out and giving it to the cook as he stood. Mr. Smrott pursed his thin lips and smiled slightly, then turned back to the stove. Jim chugged the rest of his juice and picked up his stack of clothes and headed back to his room. He wanted to be quick and efficient about it but unable to find the energy to do so. Shutting the door behind him, he moved to his dresser and put the clothes in a drawer. He refused to look at the bed --- if he did he'd probably fall into it and never get up again. To avoid the temptation he stripped down to his briefs and threw his clothes behind him and then pulled a pair of black pants from the drawer and slid into them. They weren't as baggy as he would have liked, and he felt like he wouldn't be able to move much, but they would do. With a sigh he pulled on a white shirt. It was looser, but the sleeves got in his way, so he rolled the cuffs up to his elbows. He glanced at himself in the mirror, wondering at who he saw there. 

He didn't look much different; the clothes were a change, but all in all he was still his usual self: brown hair, blue eyes, scar under his right eye from a solar-surfer wreck… Nothing out of the ordinary. 

But he felt different. He wasn't quite sure how or where, but he was.

Frowning at his reflection, he bent down and pulled his boots back on. Then he went back to the kitchen. Mr. Smrott was standing at the table, eyeing Jim appraisingly.

"Good," he said with a nod. "Now take this up." He handed the tray to Jim, who took it.

"Where do I ---?"

"Just follow the rest of them." He gestured towards a group of girls about his age, all of whom were holding pots and pans and trays of food. There were a few boys, too, with pitchers and bottles of wine. Smrott saw the look of worry pass over Jim's face, and he called out to one of the girls.

"Finn! Findabhair, come here!"

A girl with a riot of auburn curls turned and trotted over to the Corbae with a smile on her face. And then she saw Jim.

Blue eyes met violet ones.

Their jaws dropped. 

* * *

(author's note: ...hehe. I did it again. Yup, it's the girl again! By the way, her name, Findabhair, is Irish, and it's pronounced "FIN-a-veer" for those of you who don't speak Gaelic. Honestly, I don't either, but I found the name and I totally loved it. I have this thing about names, and for the longest time she didn't have one and I was completely stressing about it... I knew she needed an Irish-sounding name, the reason's for which you'll find out later, hehe, and when I came across this one I was like "That's it!" Plus it can be shortened to "Finn", which is a lot easier to type... 

Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! I'm desperate for comments...)


	5. Chapter 5

(Author's Note: Hey, sorry its been a while since my last update. I've been so absorbed with my TSCC fic _Break _and hey, if any of you people like the Sarah Connor Chronicles go read it! I haven't had time to write in this one. But a certain friend of mine kept threatening to do bad things to my stuffed penguin Sigmund if I didn't write more, so here's a new chapter. Oh, and that certain friend? He's in the story now. lol, Enjoy!)

chapter five:

"You!"

It was said like an accusation from Jim; she, on the other hand, had gasped and backed away. Her violet eyes were wide with shock as she said, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Jim frowned and spat back, "What do you mean, what am I doing here? I should ask you the same thing!"

Her eyes narrowed. "I work here."

"Then what's the point of stealing?"

Her mouth opened in indignation, but it shut just as quickly as she looked at Mr. Smrott, who had been watching the scene in mild amusement. She opened her mouth again, looking to Jim rather like a fish, pleading silently with the head cook. He was stoic, however, and the girl turned back to Jim with a huff.

"That's none of your business," she said, chin up.

"Finn, Jim is my new assistant."

She nearly dropped her tray, and Jim snorted. She looked at the Corbae again, who had cocked his head down at her.

"Smrott, you can't--!"

"--be serious? You'll find I am." He wiped his hands off on his apron. "Now, if you will please show Jim up to the mess hall."

She stared incredulously at the Corbae, then took a deep breath and let it out her nose. Jim smirked at her, unable to help himself, and picked up his tray.

"After you," he said, and she glared at him, but held her chin up and walked back to the group of servers. Jim grinned up at the Corbae, who was smirking and rolling his eyes.

"I don't want to know," he said, turning back to the stove top. "But be easy on her. She's not to be taken lightly."

Jim ignored him and followed the girl over to the waiting group. He was met with a couple of amused stares and wary smiles; the girl promptly refused to acknowledge him. He wasn't discouraged, though, and he sidled up next to her and asked, "What did you saw your name was?"

She didn't look at him, but paused long enough in her conversation with another girl to shoot "I didn't" over her shoulder. Jim smirked.

"Y'know, I could tell Smrott that you stole it."

She sighed and turned to him. And eyebrow was arched and she had the tray resting on one hip; her free hand was planted firmly on the other. She was giving him a look that faintly reminded him of Captain Amelia, like she was used to not being questioned but was too high and mighty to bother with reprimanding him. It only made him smirk more.

"Does it look like I care?" she said, her voice light and smooth. Jim faltered slightly.

"Well, wouldn't you? You could lose your job."

She laughed, not to mock him, but because she really thought it was funny.

"They wouldn't fire me."

Smrott's voice cut Jim off. "All right, you lot! Upstairs!"

The group started up the steps and the girl quickly made her way to the front. Jim had to push his way to get next to her again.

"What did you do with it?" he hissed.

She shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"My letter. What the hell did you do with it?"

She rolled her eyes and trotted up the last couple steps, managing to evade him. Jim growled under his breath and followed the rest of the group up.

The mess hall was heard before it was seen. Voices spilled into the servant's hall; Jim caught words like "starving" and "eat a mantabird," and he had a feeling they were running behind schedule. He followed the others into the large room and instantly scanned it for the girl. She was by a table full of boys, all of them dressed in blue pants and a black shirt. One of the boys was talking to her with a leering grin on his face.

"Hey kid!"

Jim snapped his gaze away and turned to the voice that had called out. It had been a dark-haired boy with hazel brown eyes and olive skin that was sitting at a table all to himself; his boots were propped up in front of him and he was leaning back in his chair with an easy grin on his face. Jim was in a good enough mood; he decided that he'd oblige.

"You new?"

Jim nodded and went over to him, offering the tray. The boy -- who had to have been the same age as him -- looked at the contents, turned up his nose, and pushed it away.

"Can't stand half the stuff they serve here," he said nonchalantly. "Bad cooking should be a crime." When Jim raised an eyebrow, the boy put the front legs of his chair on the floor and held out his hand.

"Konrade Dtarn."

Jim took it and shook. "Jim Hawkins."

Konrade grinned. "I'd say it's nice to meet you, but I don't know that yet, do I?"

Jim put the tray down and sat in a chair, shrugging. "Makes sense, I guess."

He nodded and picked up his glass of perp juice and spun the contents. "So what brings you to the fine city of Carviene?" He said 'fine' with such sarcasm that Jim had to smile.

"Well actually--" and he shoved his hands into his pockets, failing at modesty, "--I'm supposed to wearing the same uniform as you."

Konrade raised an eyebrow. "Really? Go on."

Jim turned in his seat, finding the girl easily. He jerked his head in her direction. "She stole my letter of recommendation."

His eyebrow went even higher and his eyes sparkled conspiratorially. "_Really?_" A smirk grew on his lips. "Finn? I knew she was hiding something."

Jim frowned. "Who is she?"

Konrade crossed his arms and gave the girl a contemplative look. "Her name's Findabhair; we call her Finn. She's a Selkie."

"Huh?"

"She's from Selcinorce. All the girls from there are shape shifters. She's gotta be one." He shrugged. "At least that's my theory."

But Jim was remembering the Elysian from the alley, the one that had told him how to get to the Academy. It was been her. He frowned.

"She shape shift often?"

Konrade shrugged. "Wouldn't know. Selkies aren't like morphs. They have skins. You know the stories, don't you?"

Jim said of course he did, he'd grown up in a mining colony after all. It was a story told to young boys and would-be spacers as a warning. It went like this:

A young spacer was on his way home when he saw a woman coming out of the mist that rose up from the mines. She was stunningly beautiful, with hair like fire and eyes as shining and unsubstantial as a nebula. The spacer instantly fell in love with her and asked her to marry him. She refused, saying she couldn't marry anyone because she was free. The spacer didn't understand what she meant, but he vowed to have her no matter what. He followed her in secret for weeks until he saw her going into a mine. He snuck in after her and watched silently as she slipped out of her dress and then unbuckled a worn leather band from her upper thigh. And then the moment its touch left her skin, she vanished. The spacer, knowing that this was his chance, rushed forward and grabbed the band before she could reappear. When she did, in her true form -- a glowing gold shape with violet eyes -- she knew that she had been captured, and she agreed to marry him. They lived together happily for many years, until the Selkie found her skin and took it back from her husband. He never saw her again.

Jim went over the story in his head as he watched Finn from across the mess hall. She was still standing by the table with the leering bow, a smile on her face that looked forced.

"What's she doing working here?" he asked. Konrade shrugged.

"No idea. I don't talk to servants often." He caught Jim's eye and smirked. Jim laughed.

"Oi! Jim!" one of the servant boys called. Jim immediately jumped out of his chair and grabbed the tray, while Konrade laughed and went back to balancing his chair on two legs.

"I'll be seeing you around, Jim," he said. Jim nodded.

"Right."

"Jim!"

He rolled his eyes and walked toward the servant boy that was calling for him. Konrade shook his head and resumed his breakfast.

"Yeah?" Jim asked the boy. He must have been about twelve years old. There was no way he was taking orders from a kid.

The boy looked up at him, a stern expression on his face. "You have to serve everyone," he said stiffly. "Even if you want to talk to your friends."

Jim frowned. "Then how come she gets to stay and flirt while I gotta work?" He jerked a thumb in Finn's direction. The boy bit his lip, caught. Jim just chuckled and ruffled the kid's hair.

"What's your name?"

"Andrew."

"Well don't worry, Andrew, I'll get my job done."

Andrew nodded and ran off towards the servants hall. Jim watched him go, shaking his head, then finished dishing out the contents of his tray to the cadets in the mess hall. Then he went back to the kitchen. He'd wanted to wait for Finn to get done, but when he'd checked the hall for her, she was gone. His gaze went to the table with the leering boy. The cadet caught his eye and made a rude gesture, then laughed with his friends. Jim just glared and walked out.

* * *

_Dear Mom,_

_Well, I'm finally here. The Academy is so much more than I thought it would be. I'm making lots of new friends and my classes are great. I miss you and I'll write again when I have more time -- they're working me hard._

_Love,_

_Jim_

(Author's Note: REVIEW PLEASE!!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Disney's _Treasure Planet_, nor any of its related... things. So please don't sue. It's just a sandbox I'm playing in and I'll clean up when I leave. Promise.

**Author's Note:** whew, I'm back! Sorry it took a while for this chapter; I was distracted by the sandbox that is Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. But thank the friends that read this in its rough, hand-written form, because they threatened me within an inch of my life if I didn't write another chapter. So here it is! Enjoy!

* * *

A week passed without word from the Admiral. Jim didn't see or hear from Lieutenant Andrews at all; he kept his disgruntlement to himself. He did his work in the kitchens quickly and without much complaint -- there was no use in whining about it if it had to be done. He served quickly so that Smrott would send him out on errands; these outings were his chance to explore the city and get his bearings. By the end of his first week he knew every backstreet and alleyway in the innermost circles of the hill-city.

He talked with Konrade on occasion, though the guy rarely said much beyond how much the Academy was slipping in quality of food; Jim liked him, though -- he didn't give him the scathing looks the other cadets did. So he stuck around.

Finn ignored him; Jim didn't really hold her against her. Of course, he still wanted his letter back and she continued to deny its existence.

He asked Konrade once while he was serving lunch if she'd stole anything before. He had shrugged.

"Don't know. Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Jim rolled her eyes. "Yeah, too bad I've already tried that, genius."

Konrade glared at him. "Well I guess you'll just have to try something else."

Jim shook his head and picked up his tray. As he turned, he ran into something solid and he fell back. In slow-motion the tray went airborne, along with its contents of soup and sandwiches, and landed on whatever he'd run into. Dishes shattered on the floor; silverware bounced around and rung. He was incapable of saving anything. In helplessness he looked up and cursed under his breath. From his place on the floor Jim could see that the lunch had rained down on none other than the cadet that had been talking to Finn that first day and had given him the bird.

_Oh shit._

There was a clatter and a thud; Jim had a feeling Konrade had finally toppled out of his precariously-perched chair, but he wasn't about to look. The kid in front of him was seething.

Jim scrambled to his feet and started picking up shattered pieces of china, dumping it on the tray. He could hear Konrade laughing uncontrollably. He'd kick his ass later.

"Sorry, man, I didn't see you there--"

The cadet wiped soup out of his eyes and glared down at him.

"You son of a bitch!"

Jim frowned and straightened. "Hey man, I said I was sorry--"

The cadet grabbed the front of Jim's shirt and pulled him forward, getting right in his face. "You're gonna pay for this--"

A hand appeared on the cadet's wrist just as Jim was about to reply with a few threats of his own. Konrade had stopped laughing and had gotten between them, his hazel eyes burning a hole into the cadet's face.

"Back off, Warren."

The cadet released Jim (who stumbled when his previously dangling feet hit the ground) only to shove Konrade in the chest.

"And what are you gonna do about it, Dtarn? Tell your daddy?" He pushed Konrade again. "Go on. Run to daddy and have him save your ass _again._"

By this time a crowd had developed around them; among them Jim recognized Warren's lackeys. All of them were cracking their knuckles and leering. Jim swallowed and grabbed Konrade's shoulder.

"C'mon man, he isn't worth it--"

Konrade shrugged him off, his jaw set and eyes blazing. Warren laughed.

"Yeah, Dtarn. Just walk aw--!"

It was over before Jim could really register what had happened. One second Warren was smirking, the next, his head was snapped to the side and a dark red and purple bruise was forming on his jaw. The sound on impact had been loud and cracking; Jim stared just as shocked as Warren -- and from a glance, Konrade -- were.

Warren slowly turned his head back to stare at Konrade. Jim stared with him. Konrade was red-faced and wide-eyed, and his fist was still half-raised. He looked like he didn't know what had just happened. And then Warren's fist collided with Konrade's face and the cadet was knocked flat on his ass.

Rage flared in Jim and he revved his fist back, but someone held him back; he didn't see who. He struggled and tried to break free, but the person holding him was too strong, so he resorted to shouting.

"You bastard! You just wait till I get my hands on you, you son of a bitch--!"

Warren's lackeys had taken hold of him by this point and were restraining him; the cadet wasn't struggling, but he was pissed and he was going to let Jim know it.

"Next time it'll be you on your ass," he hissed. "Nobody messes with Warren Kaysee and gets away with it." He stormed off; his friends hurried off after him.

Jim realized though the red haze that the person restraining him had let go. He glared a second at Warren's retreating, soup-soaked form, then turned and held out his hand to Konrade. He took it and hauled himself up, holding a hand over his left eye.

"Thanks," he mumbled. Jim shook his head.

"Sorry man. You okay?"

Konrade set his jaw. "I'll be fine."

But Jim could tell he was lying. Warren had let on that something like this had happened before; he made a note to ask him about it at a better time.

"Who was it that held me back?" he asked after looking around for a professor or an officer. He didn't see any.

Konrade shrugged and picked up his chair to set it upright. "Dunno. I didn't see." He glared at no one in particular.

Jim frowned, wondering who it had been.

"You better get back downstairs before you get in trouble."

He nodded absently, picking up the tray piled with broken dishes. He was in so much trouble…

"Go up to the infirmary or the sick bay or something," he told Konrade.

He repeated, "I'm fine." Then he left, too. Jim sighed and walked towards the kitchens, wondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

"I won't tolerate fighting, Hawkins."

Jim finished dumping the last of the porcelain shards into the trash compacter, his shoulders slumped. He kept his mouth clamped shut; he didn't trust himself to say anything.

"Jim, did you hear me?"

He sighed and moved over to the sink to begin washing the silverware; his eyes were on the floor. He heard Smrott sigh.

"If I hear of another fight, Jim--"

He snapped.

"Look! It wasn't my fault, okay? That kid has it in for me, I don't know why, all right?!"

The two of them stared at each other; Jim was red in the face and breathing heavily, but the head cook was calm, his oil-slick eyes unreadable.

"Go cool off, Jim," he said after a while, turning away and going to the stove. His voice was low and steady. Jim gritted his teeth and went to his room to grab his jacket. He was outside and away from the Academy in minutes.

* * *

He would have given anything for a solar surfer in that moment, or at least the means to build one. Flying was the one thing that got his mind off the crap that went on on the ground.

Jim kicked a rock that was near his foot. That's what he'd do: he'd salvage the parts and find a place to keep them and build a surfer. Most of the stuff would be easy to find -- a couple of trips to the docks and he'd have eighty percent of it -- and tools could easily be stolen…

He stopped in the middle of the alley and sighed.

So much for having changed.

* * *

He slunk back into the shadows as the spacers walked by, holding his breath. When they'd passed he slid out and continued towards the stairs. If it was like any other regulation galleon, the extra canvas of solar sails would be stored in the lower hold near the bow. He crept through the lantern-lit darkness, silent as he could be with a pack full of tools slung over his back. The galleon was bigger than the frigates he was used to; it had more decks and therefore a longer way to go, but he managed. The further down he went, the less spacers there were. By the time he reached the hold, there was no one about, and he found the crate of sails easily enough.

"Perfect."

The usually-golden cells of refined Arcturian sura crystals lay translucent and shimmering in the folded fabric. Jim carefully reached in and pulled out some canvas, then rummaged in his pocket for his penknife. He knew how much he needed for the mainsail, how much for patched, how much for slack… he knew the exact measurements and he wouldn't take any more. Quickly and quietly he cut the fabric, wincing every time a poorly manufactured cell cracked or shattered under the weight of the knife. When he had what he needed he folded it up and tucked it inside his shirt. The cells felt cool and slippery against his skin, almost wet. When he knew the sail wouldn't slip out and catch the light and potentially give him away, he put the lid back on the crate and gathered his stuff.

As he stood and turned towards the exit -- a ladder built into the hull -- he heard a shout from above.

Someone was coming down.

Jim instantly ducked behind a crate of fuel cells just as a pair of booted feet appeared on the top rung of the ladder. He held his breath, watching the shadow on the wall. Whoever it was descending rapidly.

"Hurry up," hissed a low voice. "We only have a few minutes."

Another voice called out from the top of the ladder, "Shut up, it's impossible to move in this skirt."

Jim frowned, trying to place the voices. They were both so familiar-sounding…

"Ya shoulda changed then. I can't afford to have ya compromisin' the job--"

There was thud and the second person -- obviously female -- was no longer a visible shadow. They must have been too short.

"Look, _Captain_, if you're so worried about getting caught, why'd you beg for me to come along?"

Jim edged towards the corner of the crate, wanting to try and see who it was and if he'd be able to sneak around them. From where he was sitting, he couldn't see a thing.

"Damn."

The conversation stopped with a shush from the girl; Jim froze and tried to sink back into the shadows.

"What was it?"

"I heard something."

Jim held his breath as his heart sped. It was so loud in his ears he was sure whoever else was in the hold with him would hear.

"I think someone else is down here."

Jim slammed his eyes shut. Hey, it had worked when he was four, maybe it would work now…

He heard a plasma pistol being charged and his eyes flew open. Holy shit, he was gonna die…

"Careful, now. Don't go alertin' anyone to our presence."

"Shh."

Jim held as still as possible, waiting to be found. He knew now that there was no way he'd escape. He either had to be found or wait until they left.

He didn't like either option.

There was a scraping sound; someone was moving the crates, trying to scare him out. Jim looked to his right and saw a shadow growing on the wall.

He carefully began creeping to the left, away from that looming figure. He kept his eyes on the shadow, not blinking.

There was a soft 'click' behind him. Jim swallowed heavily and closed his eyes, then put his hands up.

"Look, don't shoot--"

And then he turned around and came face to face with none other than Finn. He couldn't help the sardonic smirk.

"Small world, isn't it?"

Her face was a mask of shock, but it quickly faded into a smirk, too, as she holstered the pistol in her belt.

"We just keep running into each other, don't we?"

Jim was about to reply when she called over his shoulder.

"Hey Captain? Look what I found."

Jim turned. He heard the gears and gyros turning before he saw them, could feel the red-gold pierce of that eye before he met it. It was like being knocked flat on your back, the shock and surprise and elation was that strong. He guessed it was the same for the cyborg staring open-mouthed back at him.

"Jimbo?"

* * *

_Dear Jim,_

_Nice try, but I'm your mother, you can't fool to me. The Admiral just left the Inn. He and Amelia talked for about two hours -- I know it was about you. Mother's intuition._

_So next time don't lie to me mister. Captain Amelia told me everything. Be polite to the cook, respect your elders. And Jim, please, don't go running around and getting into trouble._

_Love,_

_Mom_

_PS: Your letter will be there soon. I love you!_

(Author's Note: ooh. chiffhanger. please review!!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Disney's _Treasure Planet_, nor the creations of Robert Louis Stevenson. Findabhair, however, is entirely my own.

(Author's Note: Okay, about damn time, right? Sorry it took so long to update people, I know I've been kind of a slacker. Okay, I've been a HUGE slacker when it comes to my account. I've read but not written! Terrible, i know. But here I am with more _Gravity_! This chapters a little short, and has a little more obscenities than other chapters, but let's remember that I'm relieving you of a cliffhanger, shall we? Please enjoy!)

* * *

"Silver, what the hell are you doing here?"

They were standing to the side of a busy square located off the docks. Finn was a little ways off, standing guard while Silver sulked in the shadows and Jim gave him the what-for. He'd relented from giving it to him in the hull of the galleon; wouldn't want raised voices to give them away and land them in jail, now would they? So he'd kept his mouth in a thin line as they'd crept off the ship, occasionally flashing glances in Finn's direction. She was ignoring him to the best of her ability, so he gave up trying to make her crack. Once they'd set foot on land, they headed for the square least-populated by officers (Silver wasn't exactly one to disappear into the crowd), playing it out like they were just on a stroll. But the minute they were out of sight and earshot, Jim let him have it.

"You're wanted by half the galaxy for piracy and worse and you pick the second-busiest port in the damn system to show your face?!"

Silver looked slightly abashed, then frowned and planted a hand on his hip and jabbed a mechanical finger in his face. "Now see here, Jimbo--"

"Silver, you gotta leave," Jim interrupted. "You can't be here--"

"Jim, if I can vouch for him--"

The young cook rounded on Finn, his eyes blazing. "No, you can't. I'll deal with you later."

Her mouth fell open. "Hey--!"

Jim shook his head and turned back to the pirate. "Silver, look, I'm glad to see you, but you can't be here and you know it, the city's crawling with soldiers--"

"Ah, I see. They've turned you into a navy pup already."

"Actually--"

"Actually, he works in the kitchens with me," Finn said, her smirk colliding midair with Jim's glare. Silver would later swear he'd felt the air crackle, and he never asked about it.

"Jimbo, if ya don't mind my askin, and I know ya wont, what were ya doin down in the holds of the ship? Not stealin, I hope."

Jim raised an amused eyebrow. "I was doing the same thing you two were doing." He jerked his head in Finn's direction. "Where'd you pick her up?"

"That's none of your business," Finn snapped. Again, Jim ignored her.

"I gotta admit, she's better than your last crew, but seriously, you could've at least picked someone nicer to look at."

He could feel the glare she was sending him burning into the back of his neck, and he shrugged it off to continue berating Silver. "What were you looking for? It must not've been that important, you left without it."

Silver sighed. "Aye, it was important, alright. But so was you. I'll have another chance, I will."

Jim sighed too and shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. "As pissed as I am to know you're here, I'm sure as hell glad to see you." And he stepped into Silver's open arms and gave him a great hug. Finn stood off to the side, confused and wondering at the duality of the Captain. She'd find a way to ask Jim later, and made her way back to her look-out post, all the while listening to everything the two of them were saying.

They talked a bit about where they'd been since the "trip", something Finn was dying to know about. But neither of them would elaborate; they chose to -- rather blatantly -- leave her out of the conversation. Jim told Silver about his situation at the Academy and that he was waiting for a letter from Admiral Roark himself that would enroll him into the school. Silver slapped him on the back and laughed, saying that he was better off a cabin boy. Jim laughed with him, feeling a weight on his shoulders he hadn't known about lift. The solar sail canvas lie forgotten in his pack, the ideas for building a newer model fleeing his mind. He was opening up again, and he felt better than he had since arriving in Carviene.

But it got late, and Jim and Finn knew that they had to be back before dinner to set tables, so they said goodbye to Silver at the docks and left for the Academy.

They never said a word the entire way home.

* * *

Silver made his way back to the tavern, plopping into a chair by the fireplace and sipping at a flagon of rum. He was in the shadows, in his usual niche of seclusion, thinking about Jim and how much he'd grown and changed since they'd last seen each other.

He wasn't expecting the man to show up so soon.

"Where's the cargo, Silver?"

The cyborg looked up and fixed his eye on the man standing across the table from him. He glared.

"You said not til next week."

The man sneered and sat down, staring at him. His face was dark and his eyes were narrowed and bloodshot; he stank of stale ale and shipscum. But even behind the dirt and ale stink there was a sharp visage, probably handsome once, and he might have been a good man in another lifetime. Silver doubted it. He didn't just smell of the drink; he reeked of cruelty and cowardice.

"I never said when. I said I needed it and that I'd pay you. Get it."

And before Silver could argue back, the man was up and out of the tavern. Silver sighed and finished his rum.

* * *

Konrade was waiting in the kitchens when Jim and Finn got back. The colors of an old bruise still graced his left eye, but he looked content munching on some cookies that were lying on a plate in front of him.

"I don't think holding out on me is a great show of our friendship, Jim," he said by way of greeting. "Why didn't you tell me they actually make food here?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Because you would've come down here and eaten it all." He leaned on the table and took a bite from a cookie. Finn rolled her eyes too and shook her head as she walked out, but before the door shut behind her she threw an inviting glance over her shoulder at Jim. He stopped with the cookie halfway to his mouth, his eyes wide, then snapped out of it just as quickly as he'd frozen, trying to play it off like nothing had happened. But Konrade had seen it and raised his eyebrows in an amused way.

"What was that about?"

Jim shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth. "How's the eye?"

Konrade took another cookie off the plate and saluted him with it. "Touché." He took a bite, then looked Jim over. "You know, you're the kind of guy a bloke needs to have as a mate." Jim frowned and he continued. "You know when not to ask and when to screw pretenses and not give a shit about privacy."

Jim gave a short laugh. "It's none of my business, man. But if I have to kick somebody's ass, it'd be nice if I had a reason."

The cadet nodded. "And if I have to help your sorry ass with Finn, I need to know what's going on with you two."

Jim nearly choked on a mouthful. "No way. She _hates_ me, and trust me, the feeling's mutual."

But Konrade nodded knowingly. "And that explains the look she gave you. What happened?"

He gave him a look then brushed off his hands and stood. "This is one of those times when you should know better than to ask." And then he left the kitchen through the same door as Finn had gone. Konrade shook his head and pulled the cookie plate towards him, then looked intently at the chefs.

"Can I take these with me?"

* * *

Finn didn't think anyone could be that predictable, but apparently Jim was an exception to that rule as well. She had waited outside the kitchen door, knowing he would exit the same way and (hopefully) go looking for her. It was just her luck that he did. But the look on his face as the door shut behind him didn't exactly secure her hopes of getting the answers she wanted. He barely glanced her way before continuing down the hall. She immediately followed him. He ignored her, so she stayed one step behind him until they got to his room, which upon reaching Jim opened the door and promptly shut it in her face. Finn stared at it, mouth slightly agape in appalled surprise.

And then she shook her head and reached out her hand and knocked. The door took a while to open, and when it did Jim gave her an entirely innocent look.

"Yes?"

And for once in her life, Finn was at a loss for words. She didn't even sputter or try to open her mouth; she just stood there staring at him. He stared back for a while, then raised an eyebrow and said, "You want something?"

All at once her mind came back and she lowered her voice and said, "How do you know Silver? What's going on between you two?"

He gave her a strange look, like he was considering, and then he shook his head.

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean no, I'm not telling you."

"And why not?!"

He glanced down the hall, then stared down at her. "Tell me why you're working with him and what you're looking for."

She shook her head. "No!"

Jim smirked at her. "There you go. Any other questions you wanna have shot down?"

She glared. "You're an ass, you know that?"

He shrugged and leaned against the door frame, giving her a roguish look. She glared harder, and he crossed his arms.

"I'm only an ass to people who've stolen my property."

She growled and stuck a finger in his face. "I told you, I didn't steal--"

And then he reached out and grabbed her wrist to shove her finger away, but the moment their skin touched their eyes met and it was like electricity condensed in a single millimeter of space that suddenly exploded without warning. The only problem was that there was actually a shock, and Finn pulled away quicker than light, her eyes wide with something Jim couldn't quite place. But before he could say anything else she was bolting down the hall and away from him. He stared after her, and then his hand began to burn from where he'd touched her. He looked down and saw that his palm had a slight gold sheen. His head snapped back up towards the direction she'd run and his mouth fell open slightly.

It was nothing, he thought. Solar residue. Just some leaking cell that had gotten on his hand when he'd packed the sail into his bag. That's all.

But then why did he suddenly have the urge to run after her and do something crazy?

Jim frowned and turned back into his room, slamming the door behind him.

A Selkie, huh?

Goddammit, he was fucked.

(Author's Note: See? Explitives. But that's how I think Jim would seriously think, so he curses. A lot. But anyway... yeah, plot! Finally, right? lol, PLEASE REVIEW!!)


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Treasure Planet; Finn and Konrade, however, are entirely my own. ^^**

**Author's Note: **I really have no explanation as to why I haven't updated in almost a year beyond that I was just STUCK. So my sincerest apologies, and I hope this lil bit of chapter will maybe make up for my transgressions. Please enjoy!

* * *

The door cracked open slightly, and Jim saw a single hazel eye appear.

"You bring the goods?"

He held the bag up, and the door clicked shut. Jim heard the sound of the chain being removed and then the door was opening again. Konrade snatched the bag from him and turned into the room, leaving Jim in the hall to roll his eyes.

"I'm being used, aren't I?" he asked sarcastically as he shut the door behind him. Konrade glanced at him and tore open the bag.

"Never! You're my mate, Jim, why would I ever use you?"

Of course, that statement was accompanied by Konrade shoving two whole cookies in his mouth at the same time, and Jim shook his head.

"Look, did you get what I asked for or not—?"

In favor of another cookie Konrade merely jerked his head towards his paper-covered desk, where a thin, steel grey piece of metal rested atop maps and text books. Jim went over to it and picked it up, examining the green glow of the letters in the top right corner that formed her name.

"This is it?"

"Everything," he replied through a mouthful. "I told you she's a bloody mystery."

Jim flipped back the protective cover of the file and the inside screen came to life, a glowing stream of words appearing and flooding the "page." The data usage flashed at the top next to a picture that smirked back at him, and he frowned slightly. When he'd asked Konrade to get the file for him this morning at breakfast — an "easy enough" feat for the right price, apparently — he had been expecting something with some meat to it, some substance. But this… they probably had more on him than they did on her.

"You're sure this is everything?"

Konrade nodded again. "Her whole file. That's all they've got on her."

Still frowning, he skimmed over the information. They didn't even have a last name; just an age and a brief history that he'd already deduced — she was from Selcinorce, she had no family, no connections in Carviene. He brought up the next page and his eyes widened.

Konrade froze in the middle of a cookie. "What is it?"

"Her record."

"Oh, yeah. Quite the criminal, our Finn."

His eyes scanned over the lengthy list, the word 'theft' popping out at him every few sentences. "Only proves my point."

Konrade rolled his eyes. "You're not still going on about that letter, are you?"

"She stole it and I'm gonna prove it."

"How?"

He snapped the file closed. "I'm gonna get it back from her."

Konrade actually laughed, the cookie that had been on its way to his mouth suspended in mid-air. "What are you going to do? Sneak into her room or something? She sleeps in the servants quarters downstairs with all the other girls, you can't just—"

"I know that, I live down there too. And I know when she's not there. It'll be easy."

His friend sighed and set the cookie bag on his bedside table, then folded his hands in his lap and turned to Jim with a rather matter-of-fact look on his face.

"Jim. It's not that I don't think you're smart enough to get into Finn's room. Quite the opposite, in fact. It's just that, well… you _can't_ get in there whenever you want."

"Why not? It's the same as every other room and you don't get special privileges for being a bitch—"

Konrade rolled his eyes and broke his professorial act. "Jim, I don't think you understand everything about this girl yet. When you do, then you can try getting your damn letter back. But until then, I would suggest staying clear of that room."

Jim met his eyes, and their gazes were locked in a contest for a while before Jim sighed and looked away. "Whatever. Look, if you know so much about her, tell me about this." And he shoved his hand, palm up, in Konrade's face. The cadet stared at it for a second, then raised an amused eyebrow.

"Where'd you touch her?"

Jim leaned against the bedpost and crossed his arms over his chest. "She stuck her finger in my face. What is it?"

Konrade shrugged. "Never figured that out exactly. But it'll come off eventually. Unless you keep touching her, then it'll just stick forever…"

Jim found himself nodding halfway before he stopped and frowned at him. "Wait, how do you know?"

He shrugged again, but there was a wry grin on his face. "Part of that 'things you don't understand' bit."

Jim's frown intensified, but he decided he'd be better off not asking about it.

"So you don't know what it is."

"No idea. She's a Selkie, though, and that's proof if I ever saw it."

Jim stared down at his hand. The golden sheen reflected brightly despite the weak lamp light, and he could still feel the cool tingle of electricity buzzing from it. It had been a whole day, and even after numerous scrubbings and submerging his hand into various cleaning solutions, it stubbornly stayed put. For all intensive purposes it could've been mistaken for solarsail residue, but if Konrade could recognize it so easily, who was to say that others wouldn't, too?

Konrade must have seen the look on his face because he smirked and said, "Don't worry, mate. No one's gonna notice it. It'll come off."

Jim nodded absently, but his mind was in full throttle now. The sheen might go away, but would the buzz?

* * *

Silver watched with a wary eye from the corner as the men came into the pub. It was a seedy tavern by the docks, and the men walking up to the bar fit the bill well — ratty sea coats, scum-covered boots, grubby faces with sunken red-rimmed eyes. There were two of them, both of whom had a look about them that caught his attention, and Silver watched as they ordered a pint of grog each. One took up a hushed conversation with the creature next to him, while the other began casting his gaze around the dark and smoky room. He met Silver's eyes once and did not return to him, and it was that that clued him in that these were the men he was looking for.

And so he shrunk into his corner, quietly smoking his pipe, waiting for the men to take their leave and for the moment when he could make his move.

They made few exchanges with the patrons of the pub, but the ones they did make were quick and quiet. Money was slipped across the table, and a small brass packet was passed in return. These were awaited with anxious eyes, and Silver didn't have to wonder much about what the packets contained. He also no longer had to give much thought to why the man that had hired him wanted his delivery so urgently.

He wasn't sure what it was or where it had been manufactured. He didn't even know what the effects were beyond turning the user into a needy coward. But Silver knew what sort of trade was being made: the kind that went under the radar's radar, the kind that most pirates turned their nose up at and ignored. The kind even he wouldn't be involved in, if it weren't for the money.

Drugs.

* * *

The only advantage of working as a cook's assistant, Jim figured, was that it gave one a lot of time to _think._

Jim Hawkins wasn't at all a stranger to thinking; in fact, he could well have been considered a champion at the art. His specialty was brooding, and as he'd discovered upon the _Legacy_, washing dishes was the perfect task to put one into a brooding mood.

He'd found himself brooding a lot lately, and the amount of dishes he had to clean did not help that problem. Of course, he wouldn't admit it, but having time to think (even if it was too _much_ time) was helpful. And he needed all the help he could get at this point.

Usually he brooded over childish things such as not getting his way or being treated like he was ten, but as of late his musings began to focus sharply on what seemed to him like more pressing matters.

First, there was the fact that he was supposed to be a student, not a cook's assistant. He'd come to Carviene for a reason, and that was to be enrolled in the Academy. He didn't spend much time on this subject, however, because it always led him to another one: Finn.

She'd stolen his recommendation letter. Why, he had no idea. To be honest, Jim didn't really _care_ why. He just wanted the damn letter back so he could quit this servant business and get on to what he was _supposed_ to be doing. But she still denied the letters existence and refused to talk about it. In fact, she refused to talk, _period._ She would have nothing to do with him.

This, naturally, was a prime specimen of brooding material, and Jim spent many hours with pots and pans mulling it around in his brain. The golden sheen on his palm had worn away, thankfully, but his hand still buzzed and served as a constant reminder of… _whatever _it was that had happened. She was a Selkie, but what did that really mean? They were urban legends, myths made up by spacers and miners to keep young men from marrying the first beautiful girl they met in a new port. Besides, anyone from Selcinorce was called a Selkie — it didn't have anything to do with the myth. Konrade seemed convinced that she was a shape-shifter, though, and Jim still had a sneaking suspicion that the Elysian man that had pointed him in the right direction that first day hadn't been what he seemed. But whether or not she could change shape really didn't seem important compared to the discovery of her with John Silver.

That conundrum was enough to keep Jim thinking for a week.

What had they been looking for? And in the belly of an unladen galleon, no less? It wasn't like Silver to go snooping around in tight spots like that. But why was Finn with him in the first place? How did they know each other? She was hardly pirate material, but then again, what did Jim know?

"I believe that that pot is already an exemplary definition for cleanliness, Mr. Hawkins."

Jim jumped slightly and turned his head to see Smrott looking down at him with those beady oil-slick eyes. He nodded sheepishly and set the pot aside before starting on another one.

"Seems as though you've something on your mind, Jim," said the cook. Jim shrugged and kept scrubbing the remnants of yesterday's meal out of the pot, but he continued. "Drabloon for them?"

Jim chuckled and shook his head. "Not worth it, really."

Smrott cocked his head to one side, eyeing his assistant intently.

"You know, Jim, I've noticed that you've been rather reticent as of late. I understand that this could very well be how you are, but I'd like to think that you've more vocabulary than that."

Jim tried ignoring the itching feeling to spill, but he cracked and sighed, putting the pot back into the dish water.

"Remember my first morning here? When I met Finn?"

Black eyes sparkled at him, and a smirk lightened the Corbae's harsh features. "Yes, I recall it quite vividly."

Jim frowned, then said, "How long has she been here?"

Smrott folded his arms across his chest. "Why don't you ask her yourself? I'm sure she'd tell you all you wished to know if you asked her."

Jim scoffed. "Yeah, right."

But the head cook raised a knowing eyebrow at him. "She is… difficult. But no more difficult than you, I'm certain. Give her time."

"Can you just tell me one thing, though?"

"I suppose I could, yes."

He had too many things he wanted to ask, but he decided they could all be summed up in one question.

"Why's she here?"

Smrott was silent a moment, and then cocked his head to the side again, peering down at the young man with a small smile on his face.

"Because Jim, everyone deserves a second chance."

* * *

**(Please review and let me know if any of you are still reading this! The more reviews, the sooner I'll update!)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own Treasure Planet, it belongs to Disney and RLS I suppose. Finn and Konrade? MINE BITCHES!**

**Author's Note:** Hi everyone! Apologies apologies blah blah blah I know its been almost another year and I'm sorry but good lord COLLEGE IS A BITCH. As is life. Write that down, kiddies you'll need it for later. Anyway, new chapter quite literally almost a year in the writing (the sections were written months apart from each other) so I hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

"I don't think that belongs to you."

Finn jumped and spun around, dropping the wrench she'd been holding. It landed on the dirt floor of the shed with a dull thud, but she couldn't hear it above the rapid beating of her heart in her ears. Hazel eyes glinted in amusement at her.

"Whatcha doing, Finn?"

Her mouth opened to retort, but instead all she could do was glare. It was usually all she could ever to at the cadet standing smugly before her — glare, and smile broadly.

"None of your business, Konrade."

Cadet Dtarn smirked and stepped into the shed, his eyes sparkling in that mischievously good-natured way. "Spying on Jim, are we?" He raised an eyebrow. "I think we both know there are better ways to go about doing that."

"I'm NOT spying, Smrott sent me to get something—"

"From the mechanics shed?"

Finn froze and sputtered a moment, then fixed him with an indignant glare and repeated, "I'm NOT spying."

But Konrade just shrugged at her. "No matter. He's spying on you."

Amethyst eyes widened. "What?"

"Jim. He's spying on you. Well, not _really_ spying, beyond going through your file and such, but still…" He flashed her a grin. "Let's be honest, love. You're spying."

"He's been through my file?"

Konrade went over to the tool bench and messed with the tools there half-heartedly. "Small detail. He didn't learn much anyway. I told him he wouldn't."

Her eyes narrowed. "You got it for him didn't you?" she hissed.

He glanced at her, then went back to examining a ratchet. "Again, small detail. Insignificant compared to the myriad _other_ things we could be discussing, like that lovely gold sheen you left on poor Jim's hand." He grinned wickedly, and Finn felt her cheeks warm.

"Nothing happened. Get your mind out of the gutter."

Konrade shrugged. "Just wondering. But…" He cocked his head slightly, curiosity creeping into his eyes. "If 'nothing happened,' why can't he get rid of it? It only sticks when—"

"Konrade, stop it." She turned away and picked the fallen wrench up off the floor. "Nothing happened and that's that." She set the wrench back on the bench and muttered, "Nothing's _going _to happen."

"Uh-huh. Still… What _did_ you do to him?"

She rolled her eyes. "Tried to push his finger out of my face. Why do you care?"

He shrugged again. "He's my friend."

"Konrade, you don't have friends."

"I've got you."

"I'm not your friend."

He raised an eyebrow. "So what are you?"

"I'm—" She frowned. "It doesn't matter. What do you want?"

"Nothing. I'm just checking on Jim's… project?" He shook his head. "Better to call it his distraction, I think."

Finn thought about asking him, but she knew better. She sighed, feeling slightly defeated.

"He's building a solar surfer." Her fingers twitched on the tool bench as she grasped for her next words. "It's… nice."

Konrade lifted a corner of the sheet that had been draped over the surfer and let out a low whistle. "Not thinking of stealing it, are you?"

"Why would I?"

He dropped the sheet and gave her another shrug. "Dunno. Why'd you steal his letter?"

Finn didn't answer for a while, then shook her head with a sigh. "I need to get back to work."

"So you did steal it?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Where is it, Finn? He's pretty sore about it, you know."

"I know he is, but I don't have it."

"Wha—?"

"Can we not talk about it, please? I need to go back to work."

"So you've said."

They watched each other for a bit, and Konrade knew that he had her. All at once her shoulders fell and he went up to her.

"It's not going to kill you, you know."

She met his eyes. "I can't. You of all people know that."

He shrugged, and when she began to shake her head he reached out and took her hand. He wasn't expecting any electricity from her touch, and wasn't surprised when he felt nothing more than the warmth of her palm. Still, somewhere in the pit of his gut was the remnant of the desire to feel that buzz, but he couldn't help that. No one could. At least, no one that had experienced it before. That was the problem with her — one taste and you were hooked. No one could help it, not even her. It was who she was, part of her nature, her being. He'd asked her once if she'd change it, change who she was, but she'd never given him an answer. At times like this, though, he had a feeling that she'd change it in a second.

"You can." He squeezed her hand and felt her carefully squeeze back. "But it's who you are, love."

"Don't remind me."

He smiled at her. "Well I'm rooting for you."

She laughed a little and mumbled "thanks," and then shuffled her feet a bit. "I really do need to go."

"I know. But hey, give him a chance, would you? Talk to him, at least."

She considered a moment, then sighed. "I'll think about it. Now let me go."

He rolled his eyes and released her hand. "Fine. Go clean something."

She rolled her eyes too. "I hate it when you're serious, you know that, right?"

"It's why I only save it for special occasions such as these. Go."

She smiled at him and left. Konrade watched her go with a sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets. Upon doing so, he (rather girlishly) squealed and pulled from his pocket a napkin-wrapped bundle. His eyes when skyward and he muttered a 'thank you' before he unwrapped the cookie and shoved it in his mouth.

* * *

The drug was his life.

Everything he did was for the next hit, the next high. He'd traversed the galaxy, seen every measly moon and planet from here to Alpha Centauri, but none of it meant anything to him without the poison in his blood.

He'd been a real man once — most junkies had been. He'd had a wife and some kids like most men, a respectable job like most men, too. He'd been a sailor on a merchant vessel, had made decent money to support his family in exchange for the dangerous job of traversing the galaxy. But that livelihood had been the doorway to his destruction, and he knew it. He didn't have a family anymore. He didn't have a respectable job or a home to live in. He was just a shadow of the man he'd once been, walking from a shadow of the life he'd once had.

The drug was his only reality now.

His entire farce of an existence revolved around staying close to a source, around getting his dirty hands on the next lifeline. Sometimes that proved harder than other times, especially closer to the center of the galaxy where the navy was thickest. Being stranded in a capital city like Carviene was a living hell. Every place in the port city was so heavily watched by sailors of the Interstellar Navy it was nearly impossible to dock a ship carrying anything even remotely illegal. If he were on the Crescent it would be one thing — so many ships went through those docks it was too difficult to keep accurate records of trades and berths. But Carviene…

Carviene was crawling with Stellar Academy snub-nosed brats who thought it was their personal duty to run screaming to the nearest authority with any information on suspicious behavior they had. They were little scabs, little copies of full-fledged officers patrolling the city.

And every time he saw one he wanted to stick a shiv between their ribs. But he wasn't a stupid man. Despite being slave to the poison he still had his wits about him, and he knew better than to do something so foolish. He was a wanted man in five systems. No, better to lie low, get what he wanted, then get the hell off this dusty piece of rock.

The clock tower chimed eight o'clock, and he straightened from the piling he'd been musing against. He was meeting Silver at eight. And if he didn't have what he wanted this time, there was going to be hell to pay.

* * *

Jim moved down the hall at quick pace, knowing that if he was caught he'd be screwed for sure. Still, the shortcut through the student quarters would get him to his room a hell of a lot faster than going around in the rain. He passed Konrade's room, not bothering to stop in. He was probably passed out on top of his homework.

That thought made him frown. Already it had been two weeks, and there was still no sign of his letter from the Captain. Were they trying to teach him a lesson or something? And if that was the case, for _what?_

As he grumbled, he was unaware of a door opening further down the hall. The click of the latch caught his attention, though, and just as someone exited the room he ducked into a dark alcove, his heart pounding in his ears. He quieted it quick because the someone started to speak.

"I expect you back here tomorrow night," said a male voice, and Jim knew it was familiar.

"I can't, I have chores to do—"

Jim froze at the second voice, his eyes wide. It was female, and definitely familiar.

Finn.

It took everything in him not to peek around the corner. What the hell was she doing here?

"Find another time for them," said the boy, and the arrogance in it sparked his memory. Warren. What had Finn been doing in Warren's room?

"Warren I can't, I'm busy — _gng!_"

Her voice caught suddenly, pitching higher, and Jim couldn't help it: he looked. Sure enough, it was Warren and Finn, and the cadet had the girl by the wrist. But instead of the defiance Jim expected to see on Finn's face, all he saw was pain and… fear? He frowned. He needed to do something, but if he showed himself Warren would see him gone for sure.

"You'll be here," Warren was all but hissing at her. "Same time. Or I'll see to it that you won't work in any of the upper Circles again." An ugly smirk plastered itself on his lips. "You'll be back on the docks where they found you."

"No—"

He gripped her wrist tighter and she whimpered; Jim dug his nails into his palm so hard that he could feel the little half-moons in his skin breaking open.

"You come or its back to whoring yourself off to pirates, you understand?"

Jim frowned and watched as Finn nodded once and yanked her arm out of Warren's grasp. As the cadet smirked the lamp light caught on his hand and Jim swore he saw a shimmer of gold — but he had to duck back into the alcove again before he could get a better look because Finn was hurrying down the hall in his direction, her face a perfect mask of calm and collectedness. But as she passed, completely unaware of his presence there in the shadows, Jim could see tears burning in her amethyst eyes. His fists clenched tighter and he felt his teeth grinding, but by the time Finn had rounded the corner Warren had snapped his door shut, and the scullery boy was alone in the hall once more.

Warren's words filled Jim's mind as he hurried down the hall towards the stairs. He'd said Finn was from the docks, and the something about whoring herself off to pirates? It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but neither were impossible. Smrott had said something about everyone deserving a second chance, but was that what he'd meant? And if she was from the Docks Circle, was that how she knew Silver?

Who the hell was she?

More importantly, _where the hell was his letter?_

By the time he made it back to his room he was frustrated enough to shut his door with a loud snap. The noise jolted him and he groaned on his way to his bed, flopping onto it rather childishly. Not that he cared.

This was all such bullshit…

Though he tried to sleep, he couldn't stop thinking about Finn, and he groaned again and rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

He wasn't stupid — he knew what she'd been doing in Warren's room. What surprised him was that she allowed it to happen. But if her position here was at stake…

Jim sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. That was it. He was talking to Finn.

It was time for this bullshit to end.

* * *

**Author's Note: **There ya go! Now review! If only because you love me? :3


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Treasure Planet belongs to Disney. Not me. This makes me terribly sad inside.**

**Author's Note:** I really need to stop with the whole "Don't update for a whole year" thing. Good god, I'm so sorry, everyone. Last fall was quite possibly the worst semester of my entire life, with a horrible post break up situation and a whole lot of anxiety and depression issues... anyway, excuses aside, ALL of my writing suffered. Because I haven't written anything - ANYTHING - until now. I know, I'm excited too. Please accept this chapter as a sincere apology, and do enjoy.

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The next morning at breakfast Jim made the questionable decision to serve Warren's table. Usually it was Finn's job (and now he knew why), and she began to protest when he took that tray, but after the look he gave her – somewhere between "try and argue" and "I understand" – she frowned and reluctantly conceded. They never said a word to each other, but there had been a shift in her posture as he took the tray. Relief, maybe? Whatever it was, when they got into the mess hall she immediately headed for Konrade's table, and Jim worked his way to where Warren and his lackeys lounged.

"Well, well, well, look here. The busboy." Warren sneered. "Where's our usual bonny lass?"

Jim began setting down plates and said, "Finn? She's working like the rest of us."

A few glances were exchanged along the table, accompanied by sneers or smirks. Warren raised an eyebrow.

"Is she now?" The other boys chuckled as he continued, "Rather good at her job, wouldn't you say?"

Jim shrugged non-commitally as he pulled napkin-wrapped silver from his apron pocket. "As good as the rest of us, I guess. Don't really pay much attention. Perp juice?"

Warren waved the pitcher away, and Jim couldn't help but notice that both his palms shimmered a dusky gold. His eyes narrowed, but the cadet didn't bother to see and continued speaking as Jim looked hastily away and poured beverages for the underlings.

"I suggest you stay away from her, busboy. Even outskirts trash like yourself shouldn't have to dally with her brand of dock scum."

Jim nearly made the off-hand comment that Warren apparently "dallied" in it rather often, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead he nodded curtly and excused himself from the table, having finished his duties. He tucked the tray under his arm and headed towards the kitchens, sending a glance Konrade's way. The cadet raised a questioning eyebrow and Jim shook his head rapidly as Finn turned in the seat she'd taken to see who Konrade was looking at. Her face closed the moment she saw it was him, and Jim gave her an awkward smile before ducking into the hall. Finn frowned and turned back to Konrade, who attempted a nonchalant smirk.

It failed miserably, of course.

"You're up to something," Finn stated, and Konrade gave her an offended look.

"How dare you imply that I'm involved in some sort of half-cocked scheme with the _kitchen boy_?" But she raised an eyebrow, and Konrade shrugged.

"I'm not up to anything. Swear it on my own mother's grave."

"Your mother isn't dead, you ungrateful twat."

Konrade chuckled at her. "Language, Findobhair, dear. People might start to question the propriety of the staff."

"Shut up." She shook her head and gathered her tray, preparing to leave. The cadet's expression turned mildly serious.

"Spoken to him yet?"

She froze slightly, and then turned her nose up and stood. "I don't know what you're talking about," she quipped, and then walked off, leaving Konrade rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

_Some people..._

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They found each other in the tool shed.

Both of them had finished their work for the day and Smrott had left them with the rest of the day for themselves. Jim was momentarily exhausted of thinking about Finn and Warren and his god-forsaken letter (which was admittedly more likely stuck in a gutter than hiding in Finn's room, but he had pride and principles to stick to), and he'd decided that he was going to work on the hidden solar surfer. He needed to do something that required brainpower, not just a mindless task for idle hands, and mechanical work promised that, at least. He just hadn't intended on finding Finn trying to filch that from him, too.

Finn didn't know why she was heading for the tool shed. She was trying to run from her thoughts and that path had unfortunately led her back to where her contemplation had really begun. It didn't trouble her, really, because the quiet shed was as good a place to not think as any, and besides, she could fool around with that piece of junk that Jim thought he was building. That would cheer her up. She just hadn't intended on running into him at the door.

"What are you doing here?"

Jim fumbled for words. "I'm – It's none of your business! What are you doing here?"

Finn stuttered too. "I'm – Nothing. Mind your own business."

They both stared at each other, neither wanting to make the move towards the shed door in case the other guessed what they were up to.

"Shouldn't you be washing dishes or something?" Finn snapped.

Jim frowned. "Shouldn't you be in town trying to pick pockets?"

"Would you just give it up? I don't have your damned letter! Aren't you supposed to be getting a new one anyway?" She narrowed her eyes at him in obvious distaste. "How special you are. Mr. Hawkins gets post directly from the Admiral whenever he cries about having lost the first, whenever he gets stuck doing things he doesn't want to do. You were made to be a stuck-up Navy brat–"

"Hey, I got here because I worked for it, dammit-!"

Finn rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course, just like all the others with their rich parents 'worked for it'. It's not like you risked your neck to get here."

Well, he'd had enough. He shook his head and opened the tool shed door, saying, "Actually, I did."

Finn frowned at him.

"Oh really?"

He didn't bother looking at her as he stepped inside. "Yeah, why don't you ask Silver about it sometime. I'm sure he'd be willing to tell you all about it."

He tried to shut the door behind him, but Finn stuck her foot in the way. "Wait, what do you mean?" she demanded, squeezing into the shed after him. The light was dim coming through the dusty windows, but there was enough of it to make out the bumpy shape of the solar surfer beneath a ratty painters dropcloth. Jim went over to it and pulled the cloth aside, blatantly ignoring her inquiry, and set about fitting the small rear panels about the engine to the main board. Finn watched him in silent indignation, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes narrowed.

"What are you talking about, Jim?" she tried again. He took a moment to reply, throwing a mock-distracted glance over his shoulder.

"Huh? Did you say something?"

She squinted further. "What do you mean, I should ask Silver about it? What are you talking about?"

Jim watched her a moment, face contemplative as he tossed a wrench between his hands. He seemed to come to some sort of decision and put the tool down, and then cocked his head at her, a strange gleam in his eye that unnerved Finn just a bit.

"Did you ever hear of Captain Flint and Treasure Planet?"

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Jim couldn't help but chuckle to himself after he'd finished his explanation. Finn's mouth was hanging open wide enough to catch flies.

"None of that's true," she finally managed to sputter out. "That can't be true. It's a myth! A legend!" And yet something had changed in her face that reminded him of a little kid: a strong desire to believe his words coupled with a small ounce of awe.

It looked rather attractive on her face.

He shoved that thought out the window as fast as it appeared.

"It's all true. Ask Silver if you don't believe me."

She nodded absently, her gaze drifting to the side as she digested what she'd just been told. Jim didn't blame her for not believing him, really; had he not been the one that all of those things had happened to, he wouldn't have believed it, either.

He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. With the exception of his mother (and even then he'd left out all of the life-threatening parts), he'd never related the events of that voyage to anyone. Now that it had left his mouth, he felt the better for it, like a weight had been removed from his back in the telling. He sighed again, feeling like he could breathe just a bit easier.

"I really don't have your letter, you know."

His head snapped up to find her still staring into the dusty space of the shed, but he knew she'd spoken. She must have felt his eyes on her, because she finally looked up, her amethyst eyes still so bright in the dimness.

"Honest," she added, and Jim sighed and brushed her words off with the rise and fall of a shoulder.

"I honestly don't care anymore," he said, a note of weariness creeping into his voice. "I just wanna get out the damn kitchens."

Finn smirked a bit, he was pleased to see, but her mouth fell again. "I am sorry. I didn't know... If I can help..."

"Do you know where it is?"

She frowned. "Well... no, not exactly. I couldn't tell you who even has it now."

Something in Jim's expression changed, and she drew her brows together as he asked, "Someone has it?"

"Well..."

A new weight settled onto his shoulders. "You mean you just gave it to someone? Who?"

"I didn't just 'give' it to someone!" Finn shot back, her hands clenching. "And I just said I don't know who has it! It could be on another planet for all I know. I don't keep track of all the sailors in this port."

He stared at her in disbelief. "You gave it to a sailor?" His voice sounded a little weak. It was long gone by now.

"Of course not," she snapped. "I sold it with the rest of what was in that ratty bag." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you think I'd just _give_ those sorts of things away?"

He could feel his jaw muscles twitch as he ground his teeth together. She ignored his ire, though, and stepped around him to examine the solar surfer. Jim used her silence to calm himself down, breathing heavily through his nose until he felt like he wasn't going to throttle her. It was easier than he thought it would be, as he soon discovered. Watching her had a far more soothing effect than he first assumed.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Finn's hands drifted across the metal and exposed wires of the board, and Jim found himself absorbed in watching her long, delicate fingers brush across the beaten and bruised scraps he'd put together, how her nebula-colored eyes fell half-shut in quiet examination of his tinkerings.

His palm began to tingle.

"I guess its my turn, then."

"Hm?" Jim blinked and his brain came back into focus, not realizing she'd spoken. He'd been staring. He fought the blood that was rising to his face with all he had. He was NOT going to blush like a girl...

She didn't seem to notice; she was engrossed in the throttle mechanism that was lying on a bench next to the main body of the surfer. "You told me how you knew Silver. I guess it's only fair that I tell you how I know him, too."

"Well, yeah."

She looked at him at that, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. Jim swallowed. Good god, was there an expression that _didn't_ look lovely on her face? _What was she doing to him?_

Thankfully her eyes went back to the solar surfer as she began to speak.

"He knew my mum," she said quietly. "When I lived in the Docks Circle. We – We worked at a tavern, there were always sailors and pirates around. Silver was one of them, always stopping by if he was in port." A small smile came to her lips, her eyes focused on some memory. "He would bring me things, sometimes, when I was young. Presents. Treasures." Her eyes swung round to his again.

"I never had a father. Silver, he –" She stopped and fiddled with a loose string on her apron. "And then when Mum died and I came here..." She shrugged. "He looked after me."

Jim nodded absently, his mind wandering. Training someone in piracy didn't really fall into the category of "looking after someone," but then again, this was John Silver they were talking about. He knew nothing else. Except, maybe, how to look after someone who needed it. He felt a small pang of jealousy towards that particular thought, but brushed it away. He of all people knew that there was more to Silver than pirating and mutiny, and who was he to begrudge someone else that had been rescued by the cyborg? Still, none of it answered the more pertinent question of what they had been searching for in the brig of that galleon.

Jim had been about to open his mouth to ask Finn just that question, but a voice from outside the shed stopped him. He frowned and went to the door, wrenching it open in time to see Andrew, one of the younger kitchen boys, walking past, calling his name.

"I'm here, what is it?"

Andrew spun and jogged up to him, obviously excited about something. Jim felt like he needed to hold him down; the boy was practically shaking with energy.

"Jim! I've been trying to find you! Mr. Smrott said I had to find you and tell you -"

The urge to put a weight on his head was growing stronger. Behind him, he could feel Finn's curiosity and mirth at his obvious frustration flowing off of her, and he scowled.

"Tell me what, Andy?"

The boy took a deep breath, trembling with the apparent importance of his message.

"TheAdmiralwantstoseeyou!"

Jim's stomach fell out with the rush of words. Did he...?

"Say that again?"

Andrew puffed up. "The Admiral!" he squeaked excitedly. "_He wants to see_ _you! _Why's he want to see you, Jim? Do you know? Are you in trouble? If we get in trouble we just have to deal with Mr. Smrott. Did you do something cool? Did you-"

The boy kept on babbling, but Jim was no longer paying attention. Was this it? Had the Admiral finally come back with his decision? Was he _finally _going to be enrolled in the Academy?

He glanced back at Finn, who just watched him with blank eyes. He wanted to talk to her still, to find out about Silver, but if the Admiral wanted to see him...

He gave her a questioning look, and she simply shrugged. Without saying anything further, she stepped around him and took Andrew by the shoulder and began leading him off. The boy shifted his queries on to her, but she shushed him and told him they'd get something to eat. Jim watched her leave with an odd sense of dismay, but it couldn't squash the nervous excitement of finally getting an answer.

He took a deep breath, and headed off towards the main Academy building, knowing that he would finally – _finally_ – never have to be a kitchen boy ever again.

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**Author's Note: **Yay! Plot! Now, I know I promised last time that it wouldn't be forever between updates, but I promise right now that it wont be a year between this chapter and the next. A couple months maybe (I'm busy with school) but not a year. I swear on my mother's - wait. Teehee. I just swear. Now review and tell me how mad you were that I took this long to update! :D


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